


"You Open Your Eyes and She is There" (you hope she always will be)

by thechamelioncircuit



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:23:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechamelioncircuit/pseuds/thechamelioncircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You open your eyes and she is there.<br/>Sitting across the room, sunlight illuminating her red hair; warm as the smile that graces her face as she notices you’re awake. She closes the novel she has been reading and gets up-smoothing out her dress before walking over and sitting on the bed. <br/>This is my first X-Files fic so bear with me, no dialogue whatsoever, completely written in second person.<br/>Comments are appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You Open Your Eyes and She is There" (you hope she always will be)

You open your eyes and she is there.  
Sitting across the room, sunlight illuminating her red hair; warm as the smile that graces her face as she notices you’re awake. She closes the novel she has been reading and gets up-smoothing out her dress before walking over and sitting on the bed. You can feel the soft velvet of her hand as she brushes it against your face, and suddenly everything is alright. Alright in a way that you hadn’t understood in years. She leans in to kiss you on the forehead and then you’re smiling too, bright and real; real as the solid weight of her hand tugging through your hair, real as the air that tickles your face with her every breath. She says something about how you should smile more often and you laugh, more cough than anything. Laughing is difficult with strep throat, you discover. She stifles a laugh of her own and you notice (as always) the way the corners of her eyes crinkle, and how her teeth flash as her grin grows wider. You shift onto your side and drag her down next to you, ignoring her exclamations of surprise as you bury your face in her neck. She smells sweet, (like the strawberry body wash that you most definitely do not use from time to time.) it’s pleasant, and familiar, and it soothes the achiness of your throat. Your eyes slip closed of their volition and you fight to drag open heavy lids; unwilling to fall back asleep. When you do manage the seemingly insurmountable feat she rolls her eyes at your insistence and you know you love her. You say it too, cracked and feeble, but there. You love her with your whole being, more than anything else. You, the paranoid conspiracist, screaming to the world-the universe that the truth is out there, and you will find it, fell in love with the rational, grounded, daddy’s girl; with an analytical mind, and a golden heart. She reciprocates the oath with enough strength for the both of you and for the first time in what feels like forever, you are whole.  
You close your eyes, and she is still there.


End file.
